High Noon (2)

something happened
on high noon
the world stopped
spinning

the hands of the clock
become
a single line

pointing to the cause
of the death
of her innocence

petals falling off
sepals dismembered
a man cuts a stalk
and leaves the roots

mourning upon the
bitter, sticky sap of loss

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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